


A Terrible Beauty Is Born

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-30
Updated: 2005-10-30
Packaged: 2017-11-02 07:45:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five-drabble suite. Snape mourns Dumbledore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Terrible Beauty Is Born

**Author's Note:**

> The title and epigraph are both from [Easter 1916](http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15528), a Yeats poem about the Irish Easter rebellion. Written pre- _Deathly Hallows_.

_"Too long a sacrifice  
Can make a stone of the heart.  
O when may it suffice?"_

In the immediate aftermath, he focused on survival and Draco. They hid in daylight and moved at night. Unable to Apparate lest their magical traces be tracked, they crawled through gorse and heather, up rocky crags and down treacherous scree slopes, barely speaking. Draco was disturbingly obedient. Snape chose to focus on the boy's glazed stare rather than think about what he had done.

"You are bleeding."

"A branch snapped back. It's nothing."

"Injury will slow us, Draco."

"Are we in a hurry to get somewhere? Or just to get away?"

Snape found that he did not know the answer.

::

 

Six months passed. Snape and Draco met the autumn in an anonymous London flat. Earl's Court was crammed with tourists. They blended in. Draco found work in a coffee shop. Snape pretended to develop potions.

"You're home early."

"Have you been sitting here all day?"

"No. I sat over there for a while."

"Severus. . ."

"Don't." He got up, joints creaking at the unfamiliar motions.

"You should leave the flat once in a while."

"And go where, Draco?"

Draco shrugged. "Diagon. I do."

Snape's mouth dropped open. "Are you mad?"

Draco met his eyes steadily. "Potter needs our help."

::

 

London's warm spring marked the anniversary. Snape and Draco evaded both the memorial and the celebration. Double-agency was tiring. Instead, they Apparated to the top of a Scottish hill. Snape brought a flask of tea, and Draco packed an assortment of disgusting candies. They gazed at the faint castle spires in the distance and saluted Albus in their own way.

"He knew all along, didn't he."

"Yes."

"Why, Severus?"

"You've not asked before."

"I told Potter you swore an oath."

"Two. One with Albus and one with your mother. They had the same intent."

"I miss him. It's odd."

"Yes."

::

 

Another year passed. Snape found himself on Caudle Moor, the gentle Lake District suddenly suffused with blood and magic. Wizards ran past, shouting spells and countercurses. The air tingled with power. He couldn't see Draco.

His Mark burned. He made his way across the bodies toward the growing circle. His mantra matched his pace: _Forgive me, Albus. Protect me, Albus._ The battle howled around him.

"Snape!" 

He looked around. Nothing.

"It's Potter. I've got my cloak. Take me with you into the circle."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. The three of us together will be enough."

Snape nodded. _Protect us, Albus._

::

 

The end of the world had come and rolled past, leaving wizards and witches blinking in the unfamiliar light of hope. Snape rested a hand on the white tomb. He did not feel Albus here, but observed the final formalities of grief nonetheless. He placed a small wreath at the foot of the plinth: cypress, hawthorn, oak, entwined with ivy.

"He loved you." Minerva's voice was quiet.

Snape turned to her. "Yes."

"And you loved him."

"Yes. Do you hate me still?"

"Never, Severus." Her eyes filled.

He touched her shoulder. "Be done with grieving, Minerva."

"Does it end?"

"Yes."


End file.
